


Noticed

by haeyoon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Canon, College AU, Getting Together, M/M, Slow Burn, but only a lil - Freeform, kind of, starts off canon at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-13 04:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10506411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haeyoon/pseuds/haeyoon
Summary: Kuroo Tetsurou noticed the tall blonde at their first practice match. With every flicker of annoyance, every fake smile, every guarded tilt of his head, soon Kuroo can't stop noticing him at every turn. And now he's been trapped in the puzzle that is Tsukishima Kei, one that he's damn determined to solve. The one thing he doesn't notice, though, is how that tall blonde notices the crafty, black haired middle blocker at their first practice match.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! So this was really supposed to be just a one shot of me dumping out all the feelings I have for this pair but it ended up a little bit long. Although there are some side characters it's really focused on them and the very tumultuous journey of them learning each other. It's a little boring and not much happens but I hope the development of their relationships kind of makes up for that. My first time writing a fic so bear with me please! Thank you so much <3

He notices him at their first practice match. Notices the way his eyes flitted across the court, hastily but precisely, notices the way his mouth hangs open infinitesimally while analyzing everything his eyes could absorb. Kuroo notices him, that tall blonde. He moves his lanky limbs in a lazy, graceful way that keeps Kuroo’s eyes trained on him throughout the match, so focused that he could hear the ‘tch’ just barely breathed out when Kuroo slams the spike straight past him. Their eyes meet for a moment that would haunt Kuroo for months, caramel eyes boring into his with resentment for just that split second, infallible indifference failing in his hate of losing.

“Sorry, I didn’t even react to that one,” Kuroo calls sheepishly as their #10 crashes one down before he could blink. Kuroo wonders if he could have reacted if he hadn’t been picking up on the slightest flicker of his tongue just before he jumped. _Intriguing habit,_ he had been thinking when he felt the air of the volleyball swinging past his head. Kuroo laughs and ruffled Kenma’s hair when he feints, and that blonde, that ever-observant blonde, follows the trajectory of Kenma’s gaze. When Kenma murmurs a disgruntled reply, distracted, Kuroo doesn’t notice the way the blonde’s eyes linger upon the hand on Kenma’s head for a moment, flickers up to that devilish grin. Just that split second. Kuroo glances over, and caramel eyes are all fire on top of his expressionless face as he bows an apology to their captain.

After the matches, Kuroo makes his way over to those long legs and that sour expression.

“Maybe you should loosen up more, like a real high schooler,” he teases. The itch had been scratching at his skin, to get under _his_ skin since the moment he had laid eyes on the cool, calm, collected first year. Kuroo notices the way the right corner of his mouth twitched for just that split second, doesn’t miss the spark of annoyance. Why did someone with so much emotion boiling underneath keep it so carefully locked up? Kuroo muses. He wants to push every single one of his buttons, to notice every minute change, every crease in his brow, and know that he was the one causing flaws on that perfect face. Kuroo was fascinated, and mildly irritated.

“I’m not good at that sort of thing,” he grumbles as he stoops to pick up an errant volleyball. Kuroo’s face lights up as a crafty grin crowns his features, knowing he had annoyed the blonde.

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou,” he calls to the retreating back. He notices the flinch of exasperation at being addressed, the tense shoulders as he pondered his response.

“Tsukishima,” he finally responds, the blonde head never turning back to look at the older man. Kuroo grins as Tsukishima walks away.

He notices when Inuoka sidles up next to him and chats easily, requiring little more encouragement than the occasional grunt to continue his monologue. And Kenma notices Kuroo’s own aggravated ‘tch’ as he walks away from the scene, but said nothing.

Tsukishima thought he was bright, bright in every way that Tsukishima was not. 

* * *

 It’s Kuroo who suggests they invite Karasuno to their training camp at a meeting. He pointedly stares forward when Kenma sends him a half glance, a glance which spoke volumes. Kuroo is mildly embarrassed when Coach replied that he already had. Well, he just wanted to make sure.

Tsukishima drops the ball he was holding when he heard the news. Nishinoya and Hinata laugh and, for once, the blonde doesn’t retort.

* * *

“Bokuto, let’s go practice in gym 3!” Kuroo announces, grabbing Bokuto by the arm knowing Akaashi would follow. Bokuto’s sputtered protests and ‘whys’ were cut off by a quiet voice.

“Kuroo’s plotting,” Kenma comments quietly, eyes never leaving his game. Kuroo swears his friend’s mouth twitches when Kuroo let out a ‘tch’. He shrugs nonchalantly and grins, as long as Kenma was entertained.

“Let’s go,” Akaashi commands as he walked past the pair. Kuroo runs his hand over his face at Bokuto’s rambunctious hoot as he chased after his setter; the things Kuroo does. He drags Lev along for good measure, and waits. After all, anyone walking from gym 1 to where Karasuno was staying would have to pass by this gym first.

Kuroo notices him first. Notices that he had grown a couple of centimeters, notices that, this time, his eyes seem to be as dead as his expression. This time, Kuroo can’t read the unfathomable eyes as they wave him down. A flicker of something passes through them as they make eye contact, and Kuroo bears into Tsukishima’s face in that single moment, given one more moment for his stomach to tighten as defiant caramel glowers at him so softly. He chooses to ignore Bokuto’s impish, shit-eating grin.

He can’t keep his damn eyes off him. Kuroo instructs him, his long fingers wrapping around the pale skin as he repositions Tsukishima’s arm in the correct form, marveling at the red marks that lingered for just a moment as he let go. It was as if his fire, his anger, his defenses were a glass case around the fragility that was Tsukishima. Tsukishima was a puzzle that Kuroo was desperate to solve, and he disliked leaving work unfinished; and he had just begun unpacking the tall blonde. That was all this was, this temporary fascination. But piece by piece, the puzzle was falling into place. This time when Kuroo asks, he gets his full name. Tsukishima Kei.

Tsukishima wonders if Kuroo knows the intensity of his stare seemed to bear a hole through Kei. It irritates him.

* * *

Kuroo chooses not to tell anyone about his trip to Miyagi, to watch the finals against Shiratorizawa. He had, however, been pacing impatiently in his apartment with Kenma lounging on the couch with a game when the smaller one suddenly looked up.

“The bullet train leaves in twenty minutes,” he points out. Kuroo freezes for a second, and then laughs and ruffles his friend’s hair affectionately.

His blonde had finally grown up. Kuroo stands and screams with the rest of them when Tsukishima blocked Ushijima’s spike, and then feels murderous at the look on Tsukishima’s face when that damn bastard dislocated his finger. He doesn’t wonder how much it hurt when Tsukishima jumped block after block, let the ball hit the throbbing hand again and again, it was written all over that expressionless face, for once. Kuroo revels in every expression, committing each one to memory again and again as he experiences a side of his little blonde that he never had before. So open, so vulnerable, so _angry_. Even as more puzzle pieces began to worm their way in place, Kuroo Tetsurou wants more.

Tsukishima sees him in the stands the moment that errant head of hair sat himself down. He says nothing, but could feel eyes following him with every jump, every read, every block; he hoped Kuroo knows it was thanks to him. When he clenches his teeth against the pain, when he stands there, eyes blazing in his fight to the finish, he hopes he knew it was for him. He wants to look into those black eyes which said nothing and everything and point towards the court and tell him, “ _You_ taught me that.” But also, would that damn cat ever _stop staring?_ Tsukishima never looks his way.

Kuroo had never intended on speaking to Tsukishima at the match. So he stands there slightly dumbfounded when he walked through the bathroom door to Tsukishima gripping the sink so hard his pale knuckles went whiter and his face contorted into an angry grimace. It only takes a moment for Tsukishima to carefully organize his expression into one of disinterest. He wants, needs, thirsts to know why Tsukishima is alone, berating himself, after his team had achieved an impossible feat. Kuroo leans in slightly with interest; Tsukishima automatically leans back.

“Kuroo-san,” he nods formally. Kuroo’s face screws up.

“Kei-chan,” he purrs. A beautiful wrinkle appears above his right eyebrow as he twitches in annoyance. “Congratulations on the win.” How to go about this without the blonde clamming up, how to approach him delicately… Kuroo’s mind is racing even as he grinned at the boy. He’s still holding his glasses in his hands and Kuroo is blessed with Tsukishima’s eyes tilting down at him with no wall in between the two. They’re clear, moon boat eyes without the glasses. Kuroo bites his tongue to stop himself from telling him so.

“It’s your turn now, Mr. Powerhouse school,” Tsukishima retorts, all fire and aggression and beauty. Kuroo laughs aloud, taking the blonde off guard. He supposes he had caught him at a bad time. But why?

“I taught you everything you know,” Kuroo says smugly; he is surprised at the guilt, the shame that flickers across Tsukishima’s face at the words. “I can’t be losing after that.” Softly, affectionately: “That block was incredible.” Found it, thinks Kuroo as Tsukishima can’t hide the disappointment, the aggravation at those words. He gives him a polite

“Thank you,” Tsukishima murmurs. “All of that coaching, and I only got one block in, huh? I guess ‘everything you know’ isn’t too much.” _Ah._ Kuroo finally unpacks the last of this test problem, only one iota of the mystery that was revealing itself to be Tsukishima Kei. His mouth twitches in either amusement or irritation at the insult. He is, after all, questioning his teaching skills.

“Well I guess that just shows how much further you have to go,” Kuroo taunts back. He wants to take a step closer, to just feel Tsukishima’s presence a little more, to let the tingle in the back of his throat and his ever-increasing heartbeat to jack up even more. But Kuroo keeps his distance. “How about you give me your number? I’ll be able to teach you some of the great Kuroo Tetsurou’s secret techniques.” Both wonder how the great Kuroo Tetsurou would do this over a text message. Neither comment on it. Kuroo leaves the bathroom with a triumphant grin as he saunters down the hall. He’s already leaving the building when he realizes, he forgot to use the restroom.

Tsukishima washes his face one last time. Why, why, _why_. Every spike that blew past him, every one touch that should have been a block out replays through his brain like a broken track, agonizing him, deepening the pit in his stomach that eats away at his sanity. A handful. Had even a handful of spikes been reaching too far? Was this the extent of his ability when he gave his all? How long had it took him to finally match up the timings? Would they have had to give up the first match if he had been quicker, been smarter, been _better_? The shame when he had to face Kuroo after his failures seemed to eat at his skin, even now he can’t shake off the grip it had on him. He remains immobilized in front of the bathroom mirror, criticisms screaming from his silent form. This wasn’t what he had wanted to show Kuroo. He had wanted to prove the inexplicable interest the older man had took in him to be worth it, had wanted to shoot that cocky grin right back at that aggravating face knowing that he had been the one to laugh last. If he could have, should have-

_You were the MVP. I couldn’t have done better._

Alone, Tsukishima smiles at the text, and leaves the bathroom.

When Tsukishima rejoins their group, Yamaguchi can’t help but notice the way he holds himself just a little bit straighter, how tall he is when he isn’t slouching, when he isn’t hiding, and he smiles in pride at his best friend. When Tsukishima comes by and ruffles Yamaguchi’s hair affectionately and Yamaguchi stutters out a, “Ts-Ts-Tsukki!”, he even gives the smallest, affectionate smile and Yamaguchi wonders who it is standing there with his oversized hand entangled in his locks. Almost as if catching himself mid-act, Tsukishima turns his head suddenly with a slight scowl and mumbles something about the heat in the gym when the slightest flush tinges his pale skin.

* * *

 They become friends, and everybody notices. Tsukishima snickers at Daichi as he grits his teeth ever so slightly and covers it with a smile when Kuroo tags along for practice. Hinata blubbers about practicing with a captain and Yamaguchi raises an eyebrow at Tsukishima, but says nothing. Soon, the questioning looks and raised eyebrows stop as Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, and Kuroo explore cafes and (occasionally) study, and Tsukishima shows Kuroo around the humble countryside of Miyagi whenever he comes to visit.

“Tsukki”

“Tsukki”

“Tsukki”

“Tsukki”

Tsukishima’s head snaps up in irritation at his two friends taking turns cooing his name as he pours over science books.

“I didn’t know that being a certified idiot also entailed having a two-minute attention span. We’ve been studying for _fifteen minutes_ ,” Tsukishima emphasizes with a glare, and has to resist throwing his hands up in the air as Kuroo and Yamaguchi both burst out laughing. Damned devil duo.

“But _Tsukki_ , fifteen minutes is so much longer than two,” and Kuroo gets a flick of whipped cream from the strawberry shortcake Tsukishima has ordered in response.

Most of their conversations go that way, and, sometimes, he doesn’t mind it too much.

In Tokyo, Kuroo endures a flurry of abuse. Tsukishima and Kenma complement each other so perfectly Kuroo _almost_ gets jealous, until Kenma throws a volleyball at the back of his head and no more of that subject is said. But as Kuroo finally convinces Tsukishima to go to the Skytree, to visit ‘stupid, money draining, tourist trapping, cesspools of hell’ according to the pair, he soon realizes the mistake he’s made pairing the two together.

“Tsukki, Tsukki! Kenma! Look at this hat!” Kuroo calls, that ever present twinkle of excitement shining even brighter as he waves a blue baseball cap in the air that reads ‘Volleyball is life’.

“Are you finally going to cover up that god-awful bedhead?”

“It’s untamable, so I suppose it’s his only choice.”

“And is he really going to embarrass himself walking around with _that_ written on the hat?”

“Volleyball idiot.”

And Kuroo pouts, but buys the hat anyways, shoving it onto Tsukishima’s head as they walk. In Tokyo, Kuroo endures a flurry of abuse. But when he catches the small smile as Tsukishima shoves his hands into his pockets and his shoulders creep up to his ears, when he finally learns that Tsukishima’s laugh is a low baritone, and he sees Kenma enjoying someone else’s company besides his own, he thinks that maybe it’s worth it.

* * *

 And then, it stops. Kuroo leaves for university and, it stops. It isn’t the distance, because that had never been a problem before. But Kuroo decides that he can’t wait forever for tall blondes and moonboat eyes and he starts dating. Tsukishima decides he gets tired of skype calls that consist of stories of Kuroo’s escapades and end in bitter arguments over nothing. Tsukishima decides that he’s tired of hurting, and carefully locks away every hope and every comfort he had ever associated with the name Kuroo Tetsurou.

And Kuroo, selfish, idiotic Kuroo doesn’t understand why Tsukishima has been so irritable lately. He only thinks he can’t linger over the way Tsukishima’s bottom lip pouts out just ever so slightly when he doesn’t get his way, and it stops. Suddenly, Kuroo is no longer there to notice when Tsukishima is actually upset over something, isn’t there to point out the way Tsukishima rubs the back of his neck when he’s anxious, and Tsukishima knows that Kuroo is elsewhere, is noticing those things for someone else now. When Yamaguchi comes over to study sometimes, Tsukishima doesn’t talk. It’s those days when Yamaguchi knows, and they spend their time reading together, Yamaguchi’s head in Tsukishima’s lap and they both pretend that they aren’t missing a third presence in the room which had once been so constant.

Kuroo fucks, and he dates, and he fucks a little more until baritone laughs and strawberry shortcake eventually seep out of his mind, the poison which had been Tsukishima Kei circulates out of his body. He plays volleyball for Tokyo University and with every spike and every block sweats out the way Tsukishima’s right side of his mouth would turn up when he didn’t want to admit one of Kuroo’s jokes was funny. And when he begins dating Oikawa Tooru, Kuroo knows that Kenma disapproves. Then again, there was little he had done lately that Kenma approves of. Still, he begins dating Oikawa Tooru and in his own twisted away, he falls in love with the narcissistic rainbow who makes him laugh with childish antics and grin with overt displays of affection. The setter and him sync up perfectly on the court and even better off, their relationship spurred by their love for volleyball. For a moment, just a split moment, everything seems to fall into place, and finally, _finally_ , baritone laughs and tall blondes no longer haunt his dreams.

But then Iwaizume Hajime steps into the picture and his Tooru spits on two years as if Kuroo had only been a stepping stone and suddenly Kuroo is left with memories and a cracked heart. He spends his days idly, playing games with Kenma, devoting his free time to volleyball, and realizing that when hearts crack those pieces never quite fit the same way again. At the end of his second year, his hard work pays off and he smiles weakly at the teams’ congratulations to their new captain, and ignores the uncomfortable stare of their setter. Because, he thinks to himself as shaking fingers run through his phone, there was only one pair of eyes his mind could focus on.

He answers, but doesn’t speak for several minutes. Kuroo knows, knows his blonde better than he had even known Tooru, and simply waits.

“Hello.”

“I was voted captain for the volleyball team here, for next year.”

“Congratulations.”

“I walked in on them, I walked in on them together,” Kuroo finally breathes out, the words he had kept locked in for so many months, the images which had followed him every time his eyelids had fluttered shut. And Tsukishima knows, he knows, because he had never forgotten about Kuroo Tetsurou.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” a pause. “I’m coming to Tokyo University. For paleontology.” For a moment, Kuroo forgets how to breathe and two years of forgetting, two years of trying to rid himself of what he had thought to be his poison but he was learning was his only antidote rushes back into his veins and he simultaneously can’t find breath and also finally remembers how to for the first time in two years. And then his next words change everything, everything. The first thing he had done in two years that Kenma approves of.

“Do you want to live with me and Kenma?”

* * *

 

Tsukishima moves in, and everything is easy again. Everything falls into place as if those two years had never passed. Tsukishima secretly enjoys the crooning “Tsukki” while he tries to study, and Kuroo laughs off Kenma and Tsukishima’s constant insults as they laze around campus. Tsukishima can’t skype with Yamaguchi, who had stayed in Miyagi, without Kuroo’s grinning face shoving its way into his camera. Kuroo laughs in ways he hadn’t in two years, and Tsukishima doesn’t admit that he’s glad to have Kuroo back in his life as his shoulders creep up to his ears and small smiles litter his days. And living with Tsukishima, Kuroo begins to notice new things he never had before. He notices that Tsukishima liked to start his day early, with a coffee and piece of toast, he notices that Tsukishima turned grumpiest when he had to stay up late. Kuroo eats them all up with a ravenous hunger which surprises even him, but again and again he discovers that the mystery of Tsukishima Kei is one that he may never complete. Once, that fact had terrified him. Now, Kuroo can only think of how he wanted more, and more. When it came to Tsukishima, Kuroo was growing greedy and selfish.

But an unwelcome fourth member joins their group as Inuoka begins sidling up to Tsukishima when the three are out having lunch, when Inuoka discovers that the pair have two classes together and suddenly begins claiming him for study sessions. Kenma listens quietly as Kuroo rants about the things he suddenly dislikes about his old teammate.

“Kuroo,” Kenma finally interrupts him one day, after Tsukishima had left the house to go to a café with Inuoka. Kuroo freezes and stares wide eyed at his friend. “Kuroo. You _hurt_ him.” Kenma finally says, but says so much more. Because Kuroo had never apologized for those days of fucking and dating and rubbing it in his face, never had acted on his feelings, had thrown aside his best friend as soon as the great, big world of college had sucked him in, Kenma had wanted to say. But Kuroo, who could always understand what Kenma’s clipped sentences meant, never hears the former two. Blind, selfish Kuroo could only understand the last. Because never for a moment had he believed those moonboat eyes were ever meant only for him. And finally, Kuroo backs off.

When Tsukishima starts dating Inuoka, all eyes are on Kuroo. He responds with a hearty slap on the back and a wide grin that can’t quite seem to overpower the tinge of pain that had settled in those dark eyes. He wonders if he should’ve, could have said anything that day when Inuoka had sidled up next to his blonde. He feels the bitter taste of regret and the loneliness of having to become a mere observer in Tsukishima’s life, a spectator on the bench with Inuoka as a starter. He can’t help but ask Tsukishima though,  _why_ _?_

“It seems weird, huh?” Tsukishima had shrugged with a sheepish head scratch. _Stupid kids in love,_ Kuroo had thought vehemently. Tsukishima hesitates for just a moment, the agony, the indecision, the years of teetering hope which had pushed and pulled him through this void simply freezes Kuroo. But it’s a simple moment and suddenly a small smile replaces it and Kuroo hates, hates how genuine it is. “He’s bright, bright in ways that I’m not.” Tsukishima finally mumbles and walks away. And Kuroo almost goes after him, to grab him by the shoulders and scream his voice hoarse until Tsukishima, his Tsukishima, his god damned blonde could understand just how bright he was. Instead, he slowly watches the door to Tsukishima’s bedroom close shut, frozen.

Kuroo realizes how much more than that it is. He laughs with everyone else when Tsukishima had once placed his hand on Inuoka’s head and joked that he was like Hinata, but smart. Kuroo watches, a spectator, and notices that Inuoka brings out so much in Tsukishima. Intelligent enough to challenge him, stubborn enough to stand up to him, and open enough to make Tsukishima laugh. With a sad sigh, Kuroo sets aside his feelings and smiles for his friend, smiles for the years of traveling back and forth, of late night conversations, smiles for his friendship and sets everything else aside.   

But when Kuroo is lying in bed late at night and he suddenly hears it, setting everything aside with a sad sigh and a smile simply isn’t _enough_. He can hear Tsukishima’s throaty growl and commands and the small, desperate whimpers he elicits from Inuoka as their thin walls pick up on the quick slamming and the begging and the moans and-. Kuroo slams the door to their apartment as he heads to the nearest bar and attempts to burn out the memories with the burn sliding down his throat. He had never guessed Tsukishima to be a top, Kuroo thinks bitterly. And this had been the last way he had ever wanted to find out.

Tsukishima thinks he’s bright, but not in _every_ way that he’s not. He is just intelligent enough, just stubborn enough, just open enough. But that’s it, enough. But still, Tsukishima doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to find more than just enough and lets himself fall in love with the proxy that eases the never-ending ache that had settled into him so many years ago.

* * *

 And then Inuoka breaks up with Tsukishima. Kuroo and Kenma both sit in their rooms with headphones tightly in but not even that seems to mute the harsh screaming and harsher words pouring from Inuoka’s mouth. It had been a pattern lately.

“You’re so damn difficult to love!” And a slam of a door. Kuroo is halfway to Tsukishima's room when his phone buzzes with a text from Kenma.

_Don’t do it._

Kuroo curses silently to himself and crawls back in bed. And again, again Kuroo is back to listening to Tsukishima behind paper thin walls. At first, they come in little hiccups. Muffled and quiet, as if holding it in could alter the reality of what had happened, as if allowing the tears to fall would make everything too real, the pain too sharp. But then, as if the dam that had been Tsukishima Kei’s armor and protection seemed to break and the hiccups shift into long, sobbing breaths. And Kuroo Tetsurou learns that night one thing he had hoped he could always protect him from. Tsukishima was a quiet crier, even as the little bits that held him together seemed to _snap, snap, snap_ out of place. If there was one thing Kuroo had never wanted to learn about Tsukishima, it was how he cried when his world was breaking.

Tsukishima doesn’t know what to do with a broken heart. He still drags himself out of bed for his classes, goes to work, comes back home, and goes to get dinner with his friends. He talks to Yamaguchi on the phone sometimes, warding off Bokuto’s incessant questions and avoiding Akaashi’s probing, intrusive stare. I’m fine, he tells everyone, I’m doing great in classes, I’m fine, you should worry more about your life, or maybe those grades. But what Tsukishima doesn’t tell anyone with their sympathetic, condescending smiles or the pity in their eyes is that, he _is_ doing okay. He isn’t great, but what he doesn’t tell them are the nights where he isn’t laying alone. He hurts, but he finds comfort in the one place he had long stopped hoping he could.

One night when Tsukishima couldn’t sleep and the tears had come, he heard Kuroo get up out of bed. Tsukishima’s door creaked open slowly and without a single word, Tsukishima felt a warm, strong arm wrapped around his slimmer form. They had laid like that until the tears stopped, Tsukishima suddenly awash with embarrassment. Kuroo had held him close and whispered into his ear.

“You shouldn’t have to be alone feeling like this.”

“I think I’d rather be alone than have you as company,” Tsukishima mumbled into his shirt, clinging all the tighter to him. Tsukishima felt broad shoulders shake in a silent chuckle, and the shift to settle comfortably on the small bed. It didn’t take long for steady, light breathing to fill the air.

And thus becomes their routine. Kuroo sneaking into his bed on those nights when his tears kept them both up, Tsukishima burying his face into Kuroo’s shoulder as the hard back pressed against his chest. It takes a while, but eventually Tsukishima begins draping his arm over Kuroo’s waist as they drift off to sleep. Some nights, both lie awake and hushed conversations take them deeper into the past, the soft blanket of darkness urging them to tell stories they had long locked away.

“My brother plays volleyball too,” Tsukishima murmurs, and tells him the story of the hurt, seeing Akiteru cheering with the rest, the _ace_ sidelined to insignificance. Kuroo plays with Tsukishima’s fingers and listens, just listens. He imagines a childish Tsukishima, a Tsukishima that laughed easily and didn’t hide behind vicious remarks and furrowed brows. He wants to meet that Tsukishima.

“You still went to Karasuno, though,” Kuroo finally comments. He feels Tsukishima stiffen for a slight moment and panic courses through Kuroo. These moments, these nights that shrunk the world to just their easy, even breathing, balanced upon such a fragile bubble. Kuroo’s every inhale breathed in Tsukishima and exhale breathed out his fear that it would pop.

“You notice everything,” Tsukishima murmurs against his neck, his arm again settling comfortingly against Kuroo’s waist again. And the bubble remains, precarious, fragile, but it remains.

And Kuroo tells him about his childhood, about forcing Kenma to be his friend (“You have a nasty habit of doing that”), about all those nights watching volleyball matches, and finally about the years of fighting with his parents, their disappointment at his ‘wasted potential’ chasing after volleyball. Tsukishima’s lips quirk up in the smallest of smiles, knowing that Kuroo hadn’t changed since he was a child. Always steady, always reliable. He frowns and tightens his grip around Kuroo when Kuroo whispers confessions of his pain.

“You’re the best middle blocker I know. Screw them,” Tsukishima retorts. Kuroo lets out a small laugh and snuggles closer into Tsukishima’s body wrapped around him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I hope you all enjoy this chapter and the end to what was supposed to be a one-shot (this chapter's a tad bit short, sorry)! I just was really trying to talk about why I feel like they're so right for each other here :) Thanks for sticking with me in this you lovely people <3

But Kuroo soon learns that dreams can only last so long. Slowly, the nights where quiet tears lead Kuroo’s quiet footsteps to Tsukishima’s room become far and in between, and then there are none. And without the excuse of Tsukishima’s hurt, they return to light hearted banter and bright sunlight framing their interactions. It’s easy, it’s simple, it’s _safe._ But at night, Kuroo wills himself to stay up at night, listening for the sound of small hiccups he had so grown accustomed to, until his eyelids grow heavy despite his will. Every night.

Now alone, Tsukishima presses his hand against the wall, that wall between him and Kuroo, as if imagining he could feel the warmth that had once filled his now cold bed. His hand remains there as sleep overtakes him, until his eyelids grow heavy despite his will. Every night.

* * *

 

Tsukishima comes home from class one day to a Kuroo he’s never seen before. His phone is laying haphazardly on the ground, a crack running through the middle of the screen, not too different from the slight crack that had formed in their wall as fists landed again and again with an echoing _thunk_. Tsukishima silently picks up his phone and then curls up on the couch, watching Kuroo, waiting for him to finish. When Kuroo’s arms fall to his side and the lanky raven collapses next to him on the couch, Tsukishima gently grabs hold of Kuroo’s hands. Uncertain golden eyes meet black for a moment, both flashing back to just a few months ago, when Tsukishima’s thumb would ghost over those very hands as they laid in bed. Tsukishima jerks his hand back and mumbles about the first aid kit, not looking him in the eyes again.

“It was Too-, it was Oikawa,” Kuroo explains with a sheepish shrug, one that Tsukishima mirrors in response.

“I figured,” Tsukishima replies as he begins dabbing at the raw skin around Kuroo’s knuckles. As raw as the desperate look Kuroo had sent him the moment he had walked through the door, as raw as Kuroo’s wide eyes, for once not narrowed into calculating slits or framed by that smirk Tsukishima had grown so familiar with. “You’re an idiot.” Kuroo lets out a gurgling laugh and Tsukishima’s head snaps up, snaps up to watery eyes and pursed lips. He freezes for several moments, clears his throat three times, and fixes his glasses _five times_ , Kuroo notices even through his tears. The smallest laugh escapes Kuroo at Tsukishima’s full blown panic.

For all the times Kuroo has spent the night with him, all the nights Kuroo’s dried tears from those eyes which have held him enraptured for all these years, Tsukishima experiences for the first time the pain of watching tears fall from Kuroo’s wide eyes. And _damn it_ , Tsukishima needs to fix it, fix the cracks finally showing in Kuroo’s face, but he is afraid that he would never be able to fix the strong, self-assured man he knows as Kuroo Tetsurou, and all Tsukishima can do is gape as his mind files blank. And suddenly the small giggles turn into guffaws at Tsukishima’s helplessness, until Kuroo is laughing and crying all at once and Tsukishima’s bottom lip pushes out just enough for Kuroo to notice. Doesn’t Tsukishima know that just _him_ is enough?

“Tsukki!” Kuroo cries as he tackles him onto the couch, holding the taller man close to him as they sprawl over the leather seats, ignoring the slight grunt that escapes Tsukishima at the sudden gesture. The pain, the anger, the humiliation that was now associated with Oikawa Tooru seemed to fade away with the awkward uncertainty of the boy next to him, the boy who so effortlessly gives him everything he needs. The vulnerability behind Tsukishima’s panic warms Kuroo from his toes up, warms him just the way he had comforted Tsukishima for all of those nights.

Tsukishima realizes, in that moment, that they were both a little broken, both missing a few cracks that would likely never be found again. But Tsukishima has felt just a little broken from childhood and being with Kuroo, patient, understanding Kuroo, who is a bit cracked too, makes Tsukishima feel like being broken was okay. He wonders if Kuroo feels the same way.

“He’s pathetic,” Tsukishima says suddenly, after lying quietly for several moments, letting Kuroo shift them so his body pressed comfortably against Tsukishima’s back. “So really, you’re pathetic if you let him get to you like this.”

_You’re worth so much more than him._

Kuroo lets out a small sigh and buries his head into the back of Tsukishima’s neck. Always exactly what he needs.

Kenma comes home several hours later to the two wrapped around the other, asleep on the couch and throws his hands up in exasperation.

* * *

 

Despite all that happened, nothing changes but everything shifts. The trio’s routines are still the same: study in cafes, nestle in the grass on their favorite part of campus where the sun hits them just right, eat Chinese takeout and watch movies on Sunday nights, and everything else that had been built up in their year of living together. As spring changesinto summer and they sign the re-lease for their apartment, nothing changes much. But there’s a shift in the air, in the way Tsukishima laughs more openly at Kuroo’s jokes and how Kuroo stops warding off personal questions with witty banter. There’s something simply _settled_ in their lives, their interactions.

But still, nothing really changes. Because Kuroo can still hear Kenma’s words echo in his head, a constant barrage of _you hurt him_ that seems to march around tirelessly and Tsukishima rarely forgives and never forgets and has never let go of those days of Kuroo fucking and dating. There’s a part of Tsukishima that knows he’s being unfair (but he had been there, open and vulnerable, and him, just himself, hadn’t been good enough to keep Kuroo there) and a part of Kuroo that knows all it took was one apology. But acknowledging the irrationality, offering an apology, would admit to so much more than either of them were willing to realize. And there’s one thought that binds both of them frozen in time, frozen in Chinese takeout and harmless study sessions:

_I already lost you once._

Neither can forget the two years of life without the other, so they continue upon their precarious balance beam, allowing themselves to be wrapped in the fantasies of noticing and learning more and more, but never willing to fall off.

“Hey Tsukki,” Kuroo grins, rolling over onto his stomach as the grass tickled at his bare calves. Their summer had been lazy but fulfilling, all of them growing a little tanner as they spent days lazing in parks and soaking in each other. Tsukishima glances over from the book he’s reading, Kenma just barely perking up from his PSP.

“I think I’m going to have to preemptively tell you to shut up,” Tsukishima looks wearily at the expression on Kuroo’s face and Kenma gives a small nod in agreement. Kuroo pouts for a moment, but his smile is plastered back onto his face when he sees he has Tsukishima’s full attention. It was a simple thing, the way Tsukishima always put his book down to let Kuroo know he was paying attention, to let Kuroo know that in that moment there was no one else but Kuroo, and Kuroo was constantly ravenous for these moments.

“Akiteru sent me this picture…” Kuroo started slowly, watching Tsukishima’s reaction while he waggled his phone tantalizingly. Tsukishima freezes for a moment, and Kuroo can see the gears turning, quickly ruling out and creating a list of possible photos that Akiteru would feel inclined to send Kuroo. The two had met during Kuroo’s many trips to Miyagi, including when the trio, Bokuto, and Akaashi had all visited at the start of summer, and Tsukishima was disgruntled to find that the two would text every so often, himself being the main subject discussed. Tsukishima crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow, refusing to speak until shown the picture. With a laugh Kuroo threw over his phone and Tsukishima’s eyes narrowed. It was a picture of him as a child, a ridiculous smile stretching his mouth as wide as it would go and a peace sign shoved a little too close to the camera.

“I’ve never seen you smile like that,” Kuroo pouts, and Tsukishima senses the danger before it begins.

“No.”

“I haven’t even asked-”

“I will not.”

“I just want one picture! Let me take one picture of you in that pose!” Kuroo wheedles, rolling over a few times so that he’s just that much closer to Tsukishima. Because his curiosity about this Tsukishima, the one as a child who smiled a little too big and knew how to laugh a little too loudly, has been eating at him. Kuroo desperately wants to meet this Tsukishima, and feels himself getting a little closer every day.

“If you don’t stop I won’t let you steal a bite from my cakes anymore, I know that you do,” Tsukishima snaps, and Kuroo lets out a dramatic sigh, “Not the cake!” and flops back onto the grass. It only takes a moment for the crafty raven to poke his head back up and discover that Tsukishima still hasn’t looked away.

“Hey Tsukki.”

“…Yes.”

“What do you think dinosaurs’ least favorite reindeer was?” Kuroo is grinning at full force at Tsukishima’s immediate eye roll and the slightest quirk of the right side of his mouth.

“Reindeers didn’t even exist when dinosaurs-” Tsukishima begins grumpily.

“It was Comet!” Kuroo exclaims, cutting off Tsukishima in his excitement. And perhaps it’s the earnest gleam in Kuroo’s eye, or just how pathetically stupid of a joke it is, or the way Tsukishima can just tell that Kuroo had been working on this the entire day, the smallest snort escapes Tsukishima. Snorts soon turn to silent shoulders shaking, and finally gives way to outright laughter that finally causes Kenma to look up from his PSP with a smile and Kuroo snaps a picture with a triumphant grin.

And this was the Tsukishima that Kuroo thirsted for, the layer underneath the puzzle under the enigma of Tsukishima Kei that he had been striving to solve since he had first noticed the tall blonde at their first practice match. It was the Kei that would tell him about a particularly interesting class, the Kei whose eyes were all fire on top of the impassive expression, the Kei that had laid with him at night and let go of his most guarded secrets. It was his _Kei._ Kuroo joins in with the infectious laughter and it doesn’t take long for even Kenma to add his own tinkling laugh.

There, in that moment, with the three of them laughing and the sun beating down, with the very presence of Kuroo warming Tsukishima, he hopes it’ll last forever.

Looking back, he supposes he should have realized that good things never really do.

* * *

 

“Don’t go.”

Tsukishima’s hand pauses on the doorknob. He swivels slowly, painfully slow, and turns to face his closest friend. Kuroo’s standing in the living room, hands shoved into his pockets and gaze not quite meeting Tsukishima’s. Tsukishima reflects on how he ended up here, his heart torn in two places, tugging in two directions. If only they hadn’t chosen to go out to eat earlier that day…

_“Kei?”_

_Two heads snap around at who would call their blonde by his given name, but the blonde himself turns slowly, begrudgingly, already recognizing the chipper voice that haunted his dreams sometimes._

_“Inuoka-san,” Tsukishima acknowledges quietly, and there’s a vindictive satisfaction at the way Inuoka flinches at the formality._

_“I just got back. Wanted to come a couple of weeks before summer break ended to be back on campus!” The attempt to make conversation is awkward and stilted, and Tsukishima responds with a blank stare. Despite his resistance, Kenma leads Kuroo away to find a table and order._

_“I wanted to talk to you,” is the last thing Kuroo hears Inuoka say before the two are out of earshot._

But Kuroo can guess how the conversation went, because Tsukishima had been quiet throughout the meal, quiet despite Kuroo’s usual antiques that capture his blonde’s full attention. Upon returning home, Kuroo notices Tsukishima’s agitation, rubbing the back of his neck, fixing his glasses, and for once, there is nothing Kuroo can do.

“Don’t go.”

Tsukishima’s hand pauses on the doorknob. He swivels slowly, painfully slow, and turns to face his closest friend. Kuroo’s standing in the living room, hands shoved into his pockets and gaze not quite meeting Tsukishima’s.

“Do I have a reason not to,” it’s not quite a question, not quite a statement. There’s a hesitancy in the lilting words, a sudden vulnerability in the blazing eyes that Kuroo finally looks up to capture. And with golden eyes bearing into black, with time frozen still, zoomed in to this moment that all those long nights and silly jokes and secret gazes has finally boiled over to;

Kuroo says nothing. Fear glues his feet in place and insecurities lock his jaw closed, and the moment passes, their fragile bubble pops, and Tsukishima sighs and turns to leave.

“Just… be careful, that’s all,” is all Kuroo can whisper, and his tall blonde with that baritone laugh, lazy summer days and late night movies, soft hands enveloping his and steady breaths fanning across the back of his neck, it all walks out the door.

* * *

 

Tsukishima never comes home. Not that night, and Kuroo waits and waits and waits the next day, but Tsukishima never comes home.

And so Kuroo handles it the only way he has ever handled losing Tsukishima Kei. Bokuto, Akaashi, and he go to a bar and Kuroo can’t decide if it’s a poison or an antidote he’s attempting to cleanse from his body. But that night, with drunken goodbyes and concerned glances, Akaashi and Bokuto bid Kuroo goodbye, but Kuroo is not alone. And that night, when Kuroo is fisting his hand in hair that isn’t blonde and kissing lips that don’t make him smile with condescending retorts, Tsukishima comes home.

“I- y-you…” Tsukishima stutters for a moment, before he lifts his chin and stares down at the pair. Kuroo is frozen, straddling the man on _their_ couch, the stranger he had invited into _their_ home, one hand still entangled in the black locks. But Kuroo is frozen by the burning eyes that are now so cool, so distant; he is frozen at the fact that Tsukishima looks further away than even the day they first met. “Look at our little bedhead, all grown up. Careful though, he forgets to brush his teeth before he goes to bed sometimes.” The slam of the door echoes through the house.

Tsukishima lays on his bed, arm covering his face and smallest of hiccups escaping him when he hears the hesitant knock on his door. A pause, a tell tale creak, and too-loud footsteps.

“I told him to leave,” Kuroo’s voice is quiet, but… angry? Tsukishima’s eyes snap open at that, sitting up in his bed. For once, Kuroo can read nothing in the face he had fallen in love with, and neither can Tsukishima.

“It’s not my business,” his voice is cool, collected. Kuroo can just barely detect the tremors dancing beneath it, and he _hurts_. Because for the first time he understands what Kenma was saying that day, he understands that Kuroo Tetsurou has enough of Tsukishima Kei to be able to hurt him with fucking and dating, and that all of these years Kuroo had spent noticing him, Tsukishima had started to notice Kuroo as well. _You hurt him_ had meant so much more than a mere, fleeting friendship. And Kuroo hurts because he couldn’t erase the expression on Tsukishima’s face when the puzzle he had been trying for years to solve had walked through the door and the last pieces had fell into place; Kuroo hurts because he had finally noticed what Tsukishima’s face looked like when he had been hurt. But still…

“You left. I told you not to go and you left. And you never came back,” Kuroo bit out. And the chest of four years of unsaid words and longing is finally unlocked between the two. “Why is Inuoka so much better than me? I was right here, I’ve always been right here. You could have stayed! You could have stayed and we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“And where would we be, right now?” Tsukishima is on his feet now, and Kuroo notices in a small part of his brain that he’s never really heard Tsukishima raise his voice. “I asked you to give me a reason to stay, and you denied me, you denied me again. I’m the one who’s been waiting for you all these years. But I’ve never been good enough to make you stay, you were the one who went off with other guys when _I_ was right here god damn it, so you don’t get to paint yourself as the god damned victim here Kuroo. Just, fuck you. Fuck you Kuroo Tetsurou.” How many nights had Kuroo wondered what his name would sound like coming from Tsukishima’s lips? But this was never the way Kuroo had imagined it, this virile spitting of his name, the same way Tsukishima would spit out a _pathetic_ when he saw someone he disliked.

“We talked. He apologized, I forgave him. He told me about his life, I told him… about you,” Tsukishima comes back to himself, temper dissipating as quickly as it came. He cocks his head, almost curiously, and Kuroo feels Tsukishima slipping further and further away. “We stayed up late talking, and I fell asleep on his couch. We spent the day catching up. And I told him about you, while you were trying to fuck someone else.”

“Tsukki… _Kei_ -”

“Don’t ever fucking call me that.”

Kuroo begins to open his mouth as Tsukishima shoves past him, but it slowly closes. Because right now, he thinks as the front door slams shut, Kuroo doesn’t have the right to stop him.

And just like that, Kuroo Tetsurou loses Tsukishima Kei, again.

* * *

 

It takes a week, a full week for Tsukishima to come home. Kuroo receives a call from Akaashi, letting him know Tsukishima is fine, he’s here, he’ll come home when he’s ready. And so Kuroo waits, and prepares, and waits some more. Because if there’s one thing in the world he’s realized, it’s that he could wait for Tsukishima for as long as he needed, or at least as long as Tsukishima has waited for him all these years. And Kuroo sleeps, wakes up, eats, and sleeps more, as if he could simply sleep away the claws that have dug into his chest. There is no relief. But finally Akaashi calls to tell Kuroo that Tsukishima is coming, he's coming  _home_ , and just that mere fact detaches the claws ever so slightly. Kuroo waits patiently for the man he would stay for, forever.

Tsukishima comes home to a note on the front door.

_#1: The first thing I ever noticed about Tsukishima Kei was his god damned legs. He was taller than me even as a first year, and in those tight little volleyball shorts damn I couldn’t help but stare. I have a thing for long legs, to be honest._

He tries hard not to snort as he rips the note off the door and lets himself in. There are paper arrows littered around their apartment and Tsukishima begins to carefully follow the haphazard path they create. The first leads him to a note on the dining table.

_#2: But then I learned that you were much more than just long legs and good looks. I noticed the way your mouth always hangs open a little when your focusing, and I noticed the way your shoulders tend to creep up when you don’t want to admit you’re happy. When you’re working on a difficult homework problem, you chew right through your pencil eraser without realizing (gross, by the way). You have three main nervous ticks: you adjust your glasses, you rub the back of your neck, and you clear your throat a lot. I noticed all of these, and they were just the cutest damn thing._

Tsukishima considers crumpling up the humiliating note for a second, but instead stacks it with the other one and follows the arrows to the refrigerator, where Kuroo’s loopy handwriting says, ‘ _Open me!_ ’. Inside the fridge is a cake box with a note attached.

_#3: I noticed that you like to eat sweet things. It took a long time, because you wouldn’t tell me outright. But when I offered you food, it was always an immediate no. When I offered you sweets, there’d be a long pause before your no. I didn’t notice this one myself, it was Yamaguchi who told me you liked strawberry shortcake the best. But I noticed that your eyes light up whenever you see one, and for a second that sour expression disappears, and I get to have Tsukki, just Tsukki._

And finally a small smile breaks out on Tsukishima’s face, because all of these years of waiting, and Kuroo had been right here the entire time. So many cracks on his heart, so many nights ignoring the painful squeeze of his chest, when maybe they had both simply been fools. Tsukishima picks up the note on the couch with bated breath.

_#4: I’ve always cared about you, always liked you. But this moment on the couch, this is when I finally noticed something about myself. This was the moment I noticed that I loved you. Because just your existence was enough to piece me back together again. You, yourself Tsukishima Kei, have always been enough. It was this moment, when you could make me laugh when everything was breaking simply by being you, that I noticed just how madly, deeply in love with you I was._

It feels as if Kuroo had gone through with a needle and thread and was beginning to sew back all of the broken pieces that had fell apart throughout the last week. Because this was the Kuroo he had always known. Open and honest, so blatantly transparent that Tsukishima couldn’t help but follow suit and let down his walls, bit by bit, until the name Kuroo Tetsurou had snuck into all of the cracks and everything had come crumbling down. A tear rolls down his cheek as he follows the arrows to the last note, taped onto Kuroo’s bedroom door.

_#5: But despite everything, despite all these years, the one thing I never noticed was how you felt about me. And I don’t know how many times over I can apologize for all of the things I did based on this unwavering, idiotic, unfounded belief that you would never notice me the way I noticed you, but I’ll apologize for as long as you need. Because I never really believed that I could be good enough for you. You’re so much stronger than you think, and you’re so kind to the people that matter to you, and I’m sorry and don’t know how people don’t see that in you. Tsukishima, since the day we’ve met I’ve always been noticing you. You were an enigma I wanted so badly to solve but I think I would need the rest of my life, if you’d be willing to give me that time._

Tsukishima knocks on the door, two quiet knocks, and blushes when he catches himself clearing his throat several times. And then, there is Kuroo. His hair is worse than usual, eyes tired but hesitantly hopeful, looking up at the taller man but saying nothing. For a moment, Tsukishima simply takes him in. Takes in those eyes that had a habit of wrinkling into a smile when he said good morning, takes in the toned figure he had wanted to bury himself in when they were pressed against each other, takes in the man he had fallen in love with. But tears begin to fall from Tsukishima’s eyes and Kuroo’s arms immediately wrap around him. There’s something familiar about it, Kuroo holding Tsukishima as he cries, the way they had fallen asleep so many nights with Tsukishima’s arms wrapped tightly around Kuroo.

“You’re an idiot,” Tsukishima’s muffled voice comes out. Kuroo laughs gently and pulls away, and he feels his chest lighten with the burning golden eyes gazing at him. “You can have as much time as you want, Kuroo.”

“You’re gonna have to call me by name eventually, then,” Kuroo teases and Tsukishima parts from him ever so slightly.

“Tetsurou… san,” he mumbles with a pout, and he can feel Kuroo’s body shake ever so slightly with a chuckle.

“It’s a start… Kei,” he replies and suddenly they’re close enough that Tsukishima can feel Kuroo’s breath fan over his face, the heat radiating from one to the other.

“I love you, Kuroo Tetsurou,” and Kuroo can feel the movement of Tsukishima’s lips ghost over his as they whisper the words he had been longing to hear since he had met a tall blonde at a practice match. Hesitantly, both a little afraid, but both happy to finally be _here_ , their lips press together in the final chapter of their story of pining and hurt and noticing each other, their chapter of being a spectator in each other’s lives. It’s a little wet and a little awkward, Tsukishima’s tears mixing into the fray but finally so right;  and Tsukishima realizes with shock that tears are falling down Kuroo’s face as he pulls away.

“I love you Tetsurou,” Tsukishima murmurs again, pressing their foreheads together and gazing into his raven’s eyes. Because Tsukishima had noticed the crafty middle blocker at their first practice match. He had noticed those lanky limbs and eyes which flitted back and forth over the court, always observing. He noticed the fanatical grin of triumph every time Kuroo successfully read a block and the way he would always turn to his teammates in pride, always needing validation. But then he began to notice the way Kuroo would crack his knuckles when he was irritated, and the way he held his stomach with both arms whenever Tsukishima did anything particularly amusing. And even if he couldn’t say these words aloud, not yet, he knew that Kuroo understood as their lips pressed together tenderly again.

"I love you too, Kei," Tetsurou whispers as he pulls away. With Kei's hand running through black hair and Testurou's fingers interlacing with paler ones for the first time they feel all the cracked pieces that make them up fall into place. For the first time, just a little broken is okay. 


End file.
